My Blog Bubble

As a teenager we lived next door to a lady with depression.   She and her husband were lovely people, they would always stop and chat, but sometimes she would retreat and we wouldn't see her for months. Instead we would only see Ernie on his daily walk. Then suddenly she would be back beside him with long hair (Gladys always had short hair). I didn't really take much notice but can remember my mum commenting about Gladys and her long hair meaning she had been depressed.   Now, looking back, I can see how they were connected. How Glady wouldn't want to leave the house and thus her hair would grow and she would look unkempt when she did reappear. I get it now. Growing up depression wasn't really something I knew much about. I know members of my family have suffered with it but it just kind of passed me by. After all we all have sad days or  short periods. Well that's what I thought. Just get on with it. Keep smiling.   However my short periods would get longer...

Some things just take over. There I was feeling like life was on the up and that maybe I was on the right side of my dark journey. Walking towards the brighter side of life. Then kaboom. The words "no you won't be returning to work you won't be leaving the hospital" hit me full on in the face. That phrase made the whole awful situation more real. I visit A&E on occasion (riding breaks and poling dislocations) but never have I had to stay. Even after Eliza I managed less than ten hours in hospital. I couldn't believe this was happening.  I felt scared and bereft, alone, sad.  I felt like I was being punished. And then I saw the consultant.  Told off for not going in sooner he told me that by ignoring the pain it was highly likely he would have been resuscitating me if I had left it any longer.  Wow. I realised then that I was in trouble and that a high pain threshold is not always a good thing. Anyhow I had the surgery that night. I had my ...